The Riddle Solver Who Can't Solve Riddles- ItaBros
by Raven-Shinigami
Summary: Italy and Romano are living as servants in Austria's home. However, on the night of a grand party, they decide it's time to put their plan into action. The plan that involves the death of everybody but themselves. Based loosely (okay, a little more than loosely) off of the Vocaloid song by this fic's name. Warning: AU, dark!Ita bros, and character death.


**Hey, guys, just sticking my neck back over here, though I may have to leave soon. I realize that I normally have something at least slightly witty to say in the author's notes of these things, but I really don't have anything to say right now, except shit, this is a long chapter. I will start on the next one immediately. Also, I'm sorry for those of you who really love _HetaOni- The Aftermath._ Because it's on hiatus right now. Actually, everything is. Hell, _I'm_ supposed to be on hiatus while I draw cute USUK pictures.**

**Ehem. Enough of my fujoshi-like habits. It's time to do the (dumb) disclaimers, even though we all know what? That's right, we all know that fanfiction writers DO NOT OWN WHAT THEY ARE SO OBVIOUSLY WRITING _FAN FICTION FOR!_**

**Anyways, Hetalia belongs to the highly-esteemed god Himaruya Hidegaz. Because Himaruya is a GOD!**

**The story's icon belongs to...well, I don't know. I found it on fanpop. And we all know how fanpop isn't _really_ where it originally came from...**

**The song _The Riddle Solver Who Can't Solve Riddles_ and _The Riddler Who Won't Solve Riddles_ belong to the Vocaloids. Specifically, Len and Rin. This plot...it was based loosely off of those songs. Or maybe a little more than loosely, we'll see how this goes.**

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Italy watched out the window as the guests arrived. The sun was setting on the water, casting an orange glow over the grounds. He saw the people get out of their fancy horse-drawn carriages in their elaborate, fancy gowns and their sleek black suits. The carriages were adorned with gold fastenings, ornamental displays, and other such fineries. And their outfits…the jewelry alone could probably buy a small castle.

Jealously, Italy's eyes followed the many colorful guests. He gazed resentfully out the window as the wealthy men and women walked up the marble steps, making small talk and chatting amiably. Wealthy folks always seemed to have time for that, didn't they? Even while others labored and toiled to provide the conveniences the rich took for granted, the wealthy pigs spoke of such infinitesimal things…even when the economy stalled, all they could think of was themselves. It was always, "Oh, the peasants aren't working hard enough," or, "Oh, those servants-you know how they are. They can't do anything right."

Without his realizing it, Italy had clenched his hands into fists as his anger swelled.

_No, Italy, _he thought to himself._ You mustn't show outright hatred for them, even if they_ are_ ignorant, fat fools…besides, your thought process was only going in circles, and that won't get you anywhere, now will it? I mean, the way you were thinking made no sense at all, did?_ He had to admit that it probably hadn't made any sense, and probably wouldn't help him move forwards at all.

Forcibly, he relaxed the muscles in his hands and went back to calmly observing the arrival of the guests. He wouldn't allow his emotions to rules his head. Besides, he was but a mere servant, and displaying hostility towards them would be terrible under ordinary circumstances. Tonight, of all nights, was certainly _not _the time to blow it.

He fingered the crystal vials in his pockets.

_1, 2, 3…6, 7, 8… good. All 16 vials are here._ Italy would need all of them if his plan was to be successful.

"Italy!" called Hungary, jerking Italy back to the present. He turned around nervously, sure she'd seen something…like the vials in his pockets. "You need to come help serve the drinks!" She rushed up to him, thrusting a serving tray into his hands, herding him out into the main room.

Perfect. Not only had she not noticed, but she was giving him just the opportunity he was looking for. Italy smirked. This was just too perfect. He slipped one of the vials out of his pocket and discretely put a few drops of the poison into each wine glass. One drop was far more than enough, but he liked to play things safe…The brunette carefully made his was through the crowd of aristocracy milling about. As he did, he briefly reflected on what was to happen. In all truth, he would regret killing Hungary-or having her killed, for that matter. She was just so nice to him. But absolutely everybody had to die, except Romano and himself.

He slipped through the crowd, offering the people drinks and making idle comments about how pretty that dress was, or how great this suit was, and generally acting as he normally had.

Then, Austria made his grand entrance. As he did so, the chatter died down. He was dressed much more formally than usual, and had obviously spent more time on his hair than absolutely necessary. But his was an aristocrat party, so the fancier and more well-groomed, the better.

"I would like to start off by congratulating all of you who had the good sense to accept the much sought-out invitations to this event. In all, only 200 formal invites were extended. Another 200 were admitted as guests to the invitees. Now, looking around, I count only about 320 attendees. So I must implore you: where are the other 80 people who should be here? I'm sure we all know how much they're missing out right now, hm?"

Austria went on for a while about the invites, thanks to certain people-Italy noted that only aristocrats were mentioned-and other non-important matters that Italy decided to simply tune out. As the opening speech drew on, Italy began to slowly make his way to Romano, who was strategically placed at the fringes of the crowd.

"Into position," he muttered as he passed his brother, walking back to the kitchen. A brief nod from the older man told Italy that Romano had heard. Smiling darkly to himself, Italy deposited the empty wine tray on the counter and grabbed up a tray of full glasses. Taking out another vial of blood-red liquid, he slipped a drop into each of the glasses. Then, he returned to the main room once again. Italy swept around the room, putting a drop of poison in every drink-filled glass he saw.

Finally, Austria stopped droning on, and the party's guests drifted off the enjoy the wide array of exotic foods. Any minute now, guests would begin to wander the manor, and the large balcony with a view of the ocean would become quite crowded…And then, perhaps, the balcony would not be able to hold all of their combined weight…

Laughing ominously, Italy continued to wander through the crowd of elaborately dressed aristocrats. All of these pompous pests would be gone soon enough. Dead, all dead.

Suddenly, Italy frowned. A thought had just begun to form in his head, and he didn't like it. However, he could not easily dismiss it, no matter how hard he tried. If he needed all potential witnesses dead, then wouldn't that mean…but no. He would consider it when the time came. But now was not the time, for half an hour had elapsed, and the sound of screaming began from the floor above.

_Time to check how effective my poison was,_ he thought as he sprinted up the stairs. There, he found the hall littered with dead bodies, blood oozing out of their eyes, nose, and ears. Red foam frothed from the bodies' mouths, and a young girl-perhaps eleven, obviously and aristocrat-stood at the opposite end of the hallway, screeching like a banshee.

"Bitch!" Italy heard Romano's voice yell. "Shut the FUCK UP!"

Romano appeared around the corner next to the girl and unsheathed his knife. He rushed at her, stabbing with deadly accuracy. The knife's first target point was her stomach. Romano buried the metal instrument to the hilt and flicked it upwards with a jerk of his arm. Blood splurted out, covering the wall and Romano alike. The girl's scream reached a frenzied pitch, and Italy wondered if she'd even stopped to draw breath.

_Maybe she'll pass out from lack of air before Romano fully mutilates her until she dies of blood loss. I sure hope so, because that screaming is really grating on my nerves,_ Italy thought, grinding his teeth together. That scream was _really_ ticking him off.

Then, Romano pulled the knife out slowly, drawing out the girl's suffering. After that, he went wild, stabbing blindly at the slumped body of the girl long after the light had faded from her eyes. The blood from the body completely covered Romano, soaking into his black and white servant's outfit, putting an effective end to Romano's being able to hide his role in this mass-murder.

Romano looked up and saw Italy standing there. He grinned a Cheshire grin and saluted his younger brother wit the bloody knife. Italy flashed Romano and identical smile and stepped around the bloody corpses to reach his brother.

"Is it done? Are we ready to carry out the next phase of our plan?"

Nodding, Romano gestured back down the hall he'd come from. There were bodies strewn across that hallway, too, and blood was smeared across the floors and walls…even the ceiling hadn't escaped the stain of red.

"The balcony has been dealt with and all souls who crossed my path thereafter met their gruesome and timely demise."

Italy still wasn't satisfied with this answer.

"So, you're on your way to get the living ones, right? We're pushing on to the next stage?"

His older brother simply grunted in response, fed up with Italy's constant peppering of questions. Then, Romano started down the hallway Italy had just come from.

Excited, Italy scurried down the hall towards where the balcony had been. When he got there, he found that said balcony had entirely fallen off, right to the opening in the wall. Peering downwards, he saw the balcony and the people on it finish sinking beneath the solid black of the water's surface.

Laughing insanely, Italy made his way back down the blood-covered corridors, reveling in the feeling of having caused all these deaths, of a job well-done. After all, they weren't people, right? They were just selfish, disgusting, pigs. And the other servants…they were simply casualties. He and Romano couldn't have anyone snitching on them, now could they? That would be a disaster.

Rounding the corner, Italy caught sight of a lone figure turning the next corner. Who could that be? Italy _had_ to find out. Quickly but quietly, he began tailing the person like a shadow, never getting close enough to be seen should they happen to turn around. The person would stop periodically and take samples from the bodies-blood, hairs, flesh, you name it-and they all ended up in this person's suitcase. That's right: suitcase.

Eventually, they reached a darkened room, and the person Italy was following cautiously entered. Italy slipped inside behind him, shutting the door silently. With haste, the brunette took up a place in the corner of the room with a tray of filled wineglasses he had just discovered. He began to sob quietly, and the mystery person walked briskly over. Italy got a view of the man's black shoes before turning his head upwards to meet the blond man's gaze.

"Are you alright?" he asked, offering Italy a hand. Italy acted as though surprised and embarrassed, but somewhat relieved, at the person's sudden appearance.

"N-no thank you," he said, brushing off the proffered hand. "I- can s-st-stand on my own, th-thanks."

"I see," was all the man said, in a rather suspicious-sounding tone.

_He must be an investigator, _Italy thought._ Romano must've not done a good enough job at eliminating all of the witnesses, and somebody must've gotten hold of the police, or a private detective…or _some_thing._

Italy couldn't have this man finding out his part in this. He decided to play up his part as frightened servant for as long as possible until he was able to eliminate this new danger. Pretending to struggle to his feet, Italy leaned heavily against the wall.

"Wh-who are you?" he asked the man, hoping that he seemed natural enough. "Wh-why are you here?"

The man gave him a shrewd, searching look before continuing with care.

"I am a private investigator here to discover the source of the problem tonight."

"Oh, I'm s-so gl-glad somebody l-like you is h-h-here. I h-hope y-y-you f-f-f-f-find the c-c-criminal, sir."

Then, the investigator said something unusual, though quite convenient for Italy.

"By the way, is that…wine you have there, servant?"

"Wh-why yes, yes it is, sir. D-d-d-did you w-want some?"

Italy grew fearful the moment he saw the other man's blue eyes darken slightly.

"No…no, I don't think I will have any, but thank you for offering. I prefer beer anyways. Now, can you tell me what you saw?" he asked, taking out a notepad as he spoke.

"W-w-well, I d-didin't s-s-see very much, sir. I'm afraid I w-won't b-b-be much help to y-your in-investigation." By now, the anxiety in Italy's eyes was no ruse. He really _was_ worried.

The investigator leaned in close, grabbing Italy's wrists, which forced him to drop the tray to the floor. Italy's eyes widened in shock.

"Oh, really? I would suspect that the _suspect_ at least would be able to tell me al little about what went on here tonight." When he saw the surprised look on Italy's face, he said, "What? Did you _really_ think you could fool me? No, I am a very serious man, a detective who has solved every case he's ever tried to solve. I also happen to have read a thing or two about poisons. What did you use? I'm curious. I'd guess a mixture of Tetrodotoxin and Belladonna? Maybe some Brodifacoum?"

Italy ignored these questions and stared off into space, not even bothering to keep up the act anymore.

"But I know you were the one to poison the wine, weren't you?"

This time, he didn't even give Italy a chance to answer. He simply slung Italy over his shoulder like a sac of potatoes, dealing with the ruination of his slicked-back hair with surprising grace as the brunette tried to free himself of the man's tight grasp.

Italy tried to reach down into his left pocket-he was sure he could get the pills out! Unfortunately for him, the detective sensed the movement, and quickly slapped Italy's hand away from his pocket.

"I know what you're doing, and I won't allow it. You're too valuable a witness for that. Also…I want criminals like you to learn justice and have retribution for your sins. I won't allow you to escape so easily, you know. There are no exceptions to the rules, and justice is blind, as I'm sure you're well aware. You will be given a fair trial. And you will either be found guilty for this, or not. But the rules are the rules, and should be followed to the letter. Allowing you to escape in such a way would be criminal of me, and so I shall not allow it." And with that, the man reached back into Italy's left pocket and removed three pills.

"Cyanide, I see. So, that was how you planned to escape, even if you were caught. What an interesting notion…that you could escape from somebody like me…"

_How does he know so much?_ Italy wondered with dread deep in the pit of his stomach. _And more importantly, how was I found out so easily? I could've sworn I played my part convincingly enough to fool even the best detectives…I thought _I_ was the one doing the tricking. Apparently, he had been the one fooling me from the moment he walked into the darkened room. I should have see that coming. Then again, how could I have known? How could I have know how good this guy was at putting the pieces of the puzzle together, even with so many of its pieces missing…And just now, when he knew I was reaching for my Cyanide…It's uncanny. Simply unnatural._

But alas, he had been found out, and his pills had been confiscated. However, Italy continued to struggle futilely against the taller man. Eventually, the detective grew tired of the brunette's kicking and clawing. He clocked Italy on the head, and it was lights out for this crime's main culprit.

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**So, how do you guys like it?**

**I was really proud of it until I read it over a second time. Then, it started looking pretty dumb and stuff. I'm sorry, world! TTATT**

**I'm going back on hiatus, too, in case you're wondering. And last time, I know I said I'd see you guys in a couple of weeks, but it hasn't been that long, has it? No, it's been...longer, if anything. So, I will see you as soon as I can, but I can't make any promises as to when. See you guys...sometime in the future. How's that?**

**And I still have no clue what the fuck I'm doing with my entire life...**


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